If you've been following along here, you may have noticed that we had a little (OK, big) change of plans for our Summer. The trailer that we take to shows is growing grass around it . . .

I must say, it seems a little counter-intuitive to announce the events that we're NOT doing, but since we've been doing them for 12 straight years, it feels like we should let you all know that we won't be there . . .

We missed you all at the Clam Festival in July. We will really miss you all at the League of NH Craftsmen's Fair, which starts this weekend. (Our year usually revolves around this show - it is so strange to not be there!) We will also be bummed to skip the Norwich Farmers' Market- our dates were in late August.

The truth is, we had some unexpected challenges following the birth of our second child in April. As a result, we needed to make some tough decisions about our working life. Ultimately, they were decisions that have proved really positive for our family's health and well-being. Thankfully, we are all doing really well now, and enjoying our first Summer as a family of four at a somewhat different pace.

As my friend Susan said, "clay keeps in a bag, small children don't." :)

What we ARE happily planning for this year is a big Fall wood-firing, and a Kiln Opening Celebration and Sale at our VT studio. We'll have a full wood-kiln freshly unloaded with hundreds of new pieces, live music, food, and general merriment under the kiln barn. Stay tuned for those dates, we'll be announcing them soon!

We also hope for a hearty update to our Etsy shop for those of you who can't make it to VT in the Fall.

Thanks, as always, for following along and supporting our handmade life!

(You may have noticed we've been a little absent here. Because, well, toddlers + home renovation + running a business. No matter. We have missed you, and where better to start than the present? :) )

Lately, we have been . . .

Making . . . yes, pottery! It might sound obvious, and I'm sure most people think we do this every day of the year (that would be so nice, eventually, we hope!) but pottery making has been the major thing missing from our working lives because we are also . . .

Renovating. We spent the bulk of the winter months purging and packing the entire contents of our 1850's farmhouse in preparation for completely gutting the upstairs. It's a huge project, brought on by the need for a little thing called insulation, and we find ourselves banging nails, running wires, and coordinating all the contractors and pieces and decisions at the same time as we try to prepare 800 pots for a firing. I assure you, this was most definitely not the plan. The renovation was supposed to happen in our "off season."

But there you have it, and so it goes . . . fortunately, we are comfortably camping out in the 600 square feet above our studio space, so we're not feeling too rushed to get the project done on a deadline (right now, anyway, check back with me at the end of the summer ;) ). For now, not feeling too rushed plus not actually living in the mess, helps tremendously.

Prepping. For our big firing of the year at the very end of June/beginning of July. We are so grateful for the energetic crew of potters and volunteers who help us with the four days of the firing itself, and all the tasks that go into being ready.

We had a really fun and productive work day a couple of weeks ago, where we stacked the holes in the kiln shed full of freshly cut slab wood, and started in on grinding and cleaning the kiln shelves. We ate good food and laughed a lot. It was the BEST of reminders of why we became wood-fired potters in the first place. We can't do it all ourselves. Exactly.

(Thank you Matt, Harrison, Jill, Lexi, Patty, and David!)

Lately, we are also . . .

Testing. For Christmas, Nathan and I bought ourselves a new electric kiln. (Practical and romantic! ;) ) For various reasons since we met (as potters in separate states) it's been seven years of driving various fragile pieces to fire in other peoples kilns. (We can't thank you enough Tiffany, Stephanie, and Joan!) However, we decided we'd like to move on, and that we were ready to have everything we needed right here.

Although most of our pottery is single-fired in it's raw state in the wood kiln, the small electric kiln will allow us to bisque fire a few pieces for the wood kiln that are better glazed when not leather hard, which is how we typically slip/glaze our work.

Additionally, and most excitingly (that's a word?), we'll use the kiln the fire small batches of finished work - remember the silky white glaze with designs?! It's actually quite nice, if I do say so myself, and the good news is that the preliminary results were really good. We'll be able to finish small batches of work in between our every six-months-to-a-year wood-firings. Hooray.

Enjoying. Playing in the sand in the driveway, digging in the garden, splashing in water and moving rocks and feeding chickens and . . . oh we're having so much fun with our little one. She's 1.5 years (wait, what?!) and so talkative, funny, happy, strong-minded, and loving.

We are tired (ahem) at the end of every day, and yet sooo ready to scoop her up again come morning.

Readying. For VT Open Studio, this coming Memorial Day Weekend. Our studio - and over 200 others around the state will be open Saturday May 23rd and Sunday May 24th from 10am to 5pm. We love this event. (Can we top last year?!)

It was a really special summer for us. Both for our young family, and for our business. (We thank you wholeheartedly for that!) But honestly, where did it go?! Life seems to have only sped up as we do the juggling act of work-at-home + stay-at-home potting + parenting - I often think about that expression "the days are long, but the years are short." So true. Our baby girl is nearly one . . . but I digress!
Here are some of our favorite photos from our summer . . .

In the studio . . .

. . . at shows and markets . . .

. . . and always with the camera and our pottery . . .

. . . and on the home front . . .

A memorable one, to be sure . . . <3

We'll be OPEN next weekend for the Vermont Open Studio Tour! There are over 100 studio open around this beautiful state - here is a link to the state wide map, and here is a link to a map of our local region (Bethel/Randolph), including some of our favorite places to grab a bite. Hope to see you. Saturday and Sunday October 4th + 5th, 2014, 10am to 5pm. (current events listed here)

When I was living in New Hampshire, and firing twice a year at my friend Jody's wood kiln in Maine, my preferred shift started at 4 am. It meant an early bedtime, and a groggy start, but I was so fond of tending that fire while the rest of the world slept. The morning light would slowly brighten, the birds would start to chirp, and I'd feel so productive so early in the day. (Admittedly, this last bit is a big part of why I love mornings!)

In the past four months, as we've been adjusting to parenthood, we've been trying to find ways to continue making pottery - and get sleep, and have quality family time.

And so we've both taken on "parents" hours, as we like to call them, with me up before dawn and Nathan in the studio after baby's (and mama's, ahem) bedtime. Nothing too extreme - sunrise isn't all that early in the winter - and baby's bedtime isn't all that late!) but enough to give us some quiet time by ourselves to collect our thoughts and prepare for, or close out, the day.

Also new for me is having regular studio time most days.

It sounds odd to say that - wouldn't a potter naturally have this?! - but our last five years were largely dedicated to building our kiln and studio. Pottery, in many ways, became something we squeezed in between the flow of more pressing projects. Now, thankfully, our pace with all that building has largely come to a halt, and studio time is once again the priority. (There's a BIG kiln to fill before spring!)

And I must say that there is nothing like regular studio time to enhance a feeling of flow and creativity. I've also chosen to focus on making one thing - mugs - for several weeks. It's been surprisingly pleasant to continue with one train of thought, so to speak, and watch my rhythms with throwing and handles get smoother and more streamlined.

{A bit of springtime while the snow falls - Nathan brought in a broken crab apple branch - and we had pink blossoms in an otherwise black and white landscape.}

Sticking with one type of piece for a while has also allowed me to develop new ideas more fully. Before this, I made maybe ten or twenty of one thing, and moved on to the next shape. Maybe I've become more patient, or perhaps this style of working makes somewhat choppy hours that I have between meals and baby feedings feel more contiguous.

And there's the fact that I personally have found myself enjoying my morning mug of tea all that much more. A mug can be a really personal, intimate thing. A quiet moment with a favorite mug can really set the tone for the day.

It's been anything but boring. In some ways, I feel as though I could keep making mugs for a while longer, although my hands have more recently begun twitching for a different form. Soon.

I've been enjoying the new bird-shaped stamps that I made. . . and figuring out fun ways to store the stamps so I can see 'which bird is which.' :)

Oh, and there have been bikes, too. New designs, or shall I say, 'new-old' ones.

And of course there's my trusty studio buddy, who, in the mornings, isn't up to his usual trouble-making tricks yet. He sits quietly on my wedging table, 'protecting' me. :)

It's 2014, and life could not have changed more since 2013.
Since Zoe joined us, the part of my brain that finds space to write reflectively about our lives as potters seems to have been swallowed by the all-consuming duties of motherhood.

So be it. We wouldn't trade parenthood for all the studio time in the world. It's been wonderful.

So here's to a new style of sharing - photos and brief bits about where we're at - probably not all that different from what I shared before, but maybe shorter and somewhat less eloquent and slightly more random. :)

This year, we are happily at work inside, making pots in the warm, sunny space we dreamed of for many years before.

We're so glad we put in five years of hard work on "infrastructure" - wood kiln and studio - so that now, between naps and diaper changes - we can get a few pots thrown. (With Lego, as per usual, seeing that we pay attention to HIM. Yes, he's on my wedging table, ahem.)

I started off the year in the studio with a few new experimental hand built pieces - pears and 'trenchers' fashioned to look like primitive wood bowls. We'll see how they come out. It's nice to experiment before heading full-force into making mugs and butter keepers. (That's my next task.)

Nathan has been working away at kiln and studio maintenance to get the kiln- and kiln shed- ready for our next firing. (Yes, we are still cleaning up from Firing #3, with a new year's resolution to clean up DIRECTLY following the next firing. :) It seems we're always running off to a show or something . . .)

In any event, he's been cutting wood and installing vent hoods and washing buckets - and on a more fun note - installing a pull up bar in his studio! It's the little things that bring joy . . .

The other day, with grandparents on the premises, we had a morning to ourselves - a "date morning," if you will - and we headed enthusiastically . . . to the kiln shed. Yup, grinding shelves and cleaning up from our third firing was our job - and actually, it was quite lovely. We were together doing what we love and putting our work lives in order. (Never thought I'd use the word "love" and "kiln maintenance" in the same sentence, but having a baby does change everything!)

In other random news (I told you there would be randomness) - we have studio plumbing!

This might not seem that exciting, until you consider that these pipes translate to things like a SINK and HEAT.

It sure is handy having a sink in a pottery studio! And central heat - in this case, radiant floor heat - is sooo nice. We'd be keeping things warm with the wood-stove while we waited for delivery of a water heater, but we were plowing through our wood and it wasn't all that warm. Just before Christmas family visits, our plumber was kind enough to jury rig a temporary set-up that involves one loop of our radiant tubes to be filled with warm water. And oh, how nice. The studio is warm and the heat is even and comfortable and requires zero maintenance. The full system gets installed tomorrow!

A warm bright studio with a long winter of pottery making and hanging out with our little girl lies ahead. Sounds about perfect to me.

We're just seven weeks into our new adventure - the one in parenting. :) And if we've learned anything at this point, it's that we should get rid of our expectations. (Especially the ones about sleep! In truth, though things are improving in that department. Thank goodness.)

Among the expectations we tried not to have going into this were expectations about when we would be getting back to work in the studio. We thought maybe January would be a reasonable guess, as we couldn't know what kind of baby Z would be, how we'd be feeling, and just how exactly our lives would be with our first baby.

What we did know was that having our studio here at home - situated nearby in the field between our farmhouse and the wood-kiln - would give us the best chance at continuing to be potters. (I suppose that was a lot of the impetus behind our marathon studio building last winter + spring! We're loving our new building.)

And so when I found myself wedging clay four weeks after giving birth, I took it in stride. I was pleasantly surprised, to be sure, but also I knew there would be no saying if I'd be able to get back to those balls of clay tomorrow, or next week, or . . . ?

As it turns out, we've worked up a little routine where we each have time alone with Z while the other goes off around the farm/studio/kiln to get some work done. Family togetherness resumes at meals and in the evenings when it turns cold and dark (all too early these days!).

It feels like a win win at this point. We both LOVE our time with her, and we also still really enjoy keeping up with our work and business. And we have fun taking a morning off the four of us (let's not forget Lego the canine here) for a hike or outing of some sort once a week.

And so it goes. For now. With no expectations of things remaining this way going forward . . . it's one day at a time here in new-parent-land. ('Cause I think we realize that a toddler crawling around a pottery studio is going to be, well, interesting.) :)

It's the end of the summer here in Vermont. Our neighbors' kids are back to school, and I swear I can see a slight change in the color of the leaves if not a change in the feeling of the air around us. For us, it's a time for reflection, re-setting, and winding down a little (OK, a lot).

A great season of fairs and shows followed a great third firing of our kiln which followed the completion of our beautiful new studio.

With all that behind us, I can't help but look back at where we were a year ago, after the fair, looking ahead to the huge task of building this dream studio - in fact, I wrote this 'dreamy' post. It's sort of amazing to see what it foreshadowed - and how much more we did than I could have ever imagined . . . the roof is actually insulated!!

And just this morning, I walked across the lawn with my warm tea mug in hand to my studio space. A dream come true.

It's been so nice to shift our time and attention to our homestead for a change. Our chickens, for one, are glad for this shift : we tractor-ed their coop to a new spot with loads of fresh grass.

Now that the heat has subsided, the ladies are laying up a storm. And just in time for some summer baking - chocolate zucchini and green tomato cakes (Both are seriously good, favorite recipes of mine. And both work well with gluten-free flours. Yum.)

The garden got a little love, too. (And it needed it!) This year, our main crops (read: only - besides pottery!) were garlic and corn and a little firewood on the side - the first and latter of which have been drying nicely, and as for the corn, it is still ripening. (Here's hoping we know it's ready before the racoons do! You can just make it out amongst the tall grass in our field.) After pottery, there wasn't a whole lot of left over time and energy for gardening this year - thankfully we live in an epicenter of local food and agriculture that is Vermont. :)

There's been other shifting and organizing going on here, too. The lovely upper level of our studio saw part of its intended future use realized a bit sooner than expected: we're so happy to have finally moved our offices out of the living room in our not-so-big farmhouse and into the new building. (And the bubble wrap, packing peanuts, and boxes from the upstairs bedroom, the shipping counter out of our mudroom - you get the idea. :) )

Like the studio spaces below, it's light and bright and while somewhat unfinished, has made the whole "going to work" thing a lot more deliberate.

Now the house is for living - and reading and knitting and cooking and just being together without the distraction of desks and computers.

And just in time . . . as our house is about to become a home for a 'project' of an entirely different nature . . .

Our first baby is due to arrive the first of October, and we are so happy to be making space for our growing family. This new 'project' promises to be a much softer and more cuddly one than the concrete work we were doing last year at this time . . . although it will likely come with a lot less sleep. :)

So, yes, perhaps this provides more explanation for the aforementioned 'slowing down' (and all the incredible help we received from friends and family over the past few months while finishing this studio, moving into it, firing the kiln . . . )

We've basically been tackling major building projects since we got married four years ago (actually, we started before the wedding!), and we're finally taking some of these last pre-baby weeks to just be at home, enjoying summer, resting, and preparing for a big life change together.

Every once in a while, I'm reminded to actually enjoy the pieces we've made for a few moments before they disappear into the hands and homes of others. (It happens so quickly, the unloading of the kiln to the goodbyes!)
One of my favorite ways to spend some time with what we've made is to 'make it nice' in the kitchen of our farmhouse, and have a little photo shoot. Here are some shots of pieces that were included in our summer firing, as they were meant to be seen and used . . .

{dinner plate, bread plate and bowl in green celadon for a wedding registry}

The last few weeks here have been very full indeed. While the kiln is slowly cooling, we finally have some time to tell you about it! Since moving in to our new studio in early May, we've had about eight weeks to fill the two large chambers (about 350 cubic feet) that make up our wood-fired kiln. Thankfully, the work in our new space flowed beautifully, and the storage racks we built there and in the kiln shed enabled us to throw as fast as we could keep up with the drying pots.

There is sometimes (okay, rarely, but it's fun) an audience above to watch things get made from above. (Eventually, the showroom of finished work will be upstairs, so if you're shopping for pots, you might see them being made below!)

The glazes get stirred and the raw pottery lined or dipped into glaze.

Almost all of our pottery gets glazed without being fired first - we skip the bisque firing - so it's raw or 'green.' Although this took some getting used to, this simplifies the process for us in many ways, and the piece is completed in one breath, so to speak. We do, however, have to fire the kiln much more slowly as a result, ensuring that we don't 'shock' and crack the pots.

Once glazed, the pieces dry on the racks . . . and then get carried out to the kiln shed, board by board. (When it's not raining - which has been rare these days!)

We closed in the west wall of the kiln shed last fall to accommodate nearly 100 boards of pottery and keep it dry and easily accessible for loading the kiln. This was our first time using this system, and it worked out really well. In fact, as it turns out, a full kiln load is MORE than a full wall's worth - 100 ware boards of pottery were set and ready to go.

After about two months of studio work, we had around 900 pieces. Included in this firing were also pieces from potter friends and neighbors - put some pots in, take a stoking shift!

From the kiln shed, we can see the new studio. We still can't quite believe that we built this between firings . . . it sure is nice to look out at our accomplishment.

The view in the other direction is also great . . . pottery headed into the first chamber! We begin by stacking the front, closest to the firebox where the wood burns. This area will get the most natural fly ash and bear the brunt of the heat. It's almost seven feet tall here, so a lot of pottery goes into this area.

A little farther back, in the middle of the big chamber, we loaded a lot of glazed pieces (there's not as much natural ash to do the glazing here), including Nathan's bowls which are designed to be stacked rim to rim to maximize height. The little wads of clay between them - and on the bottom of every piece in the kiln, are to prevent the pieces from fusing together or to the shelf they sit on.

Lego knew the best place to stay cool was inside the "cave" of the kiln on the cool bricks (cool for now, anyway!) . . . but pretty soon, there wasn't a whole lot of room left for him. And it does get a little dicey when he throws his 90 pounds around the fragile pots. :)

The loading took us about four days of very long hours. We often worked well into the evening with lights to keep us going . . .

Nathan got the very last pieces in with some crazy yoga moves . . . it's a really full load!

As for how things were looking elsewhere in the shed, we had prepped a lot of wood. We hoped it would be more than we needed, and it was. We had a good mix of hard and soft woods - the hardwood being small log lengths we hauled out of our woods, left over from a recent logging project. The softwoods, mostly in the form of slab offcuts, come to us from a neighbor and a local mill in the next valley over. We cut them into four foot lengths, and stack them under the shed. (This was our first firing with wood under the shed - boy were we glad! It's been SO rainy here . . .)

Once we had finished loading all the pottery in, we bricked up the doors- with their handy numbers as place markers - and made fire!

Minutes after starting the firing, we were treated to this in the field near the kiln, which we took as a good omen . . .

The firing proceeded smoothly, and we stoked wood into the front of the kiln 'round the clock for the next four days. We were grateful to have lots of friends take shifts this time - Nathan still did about twelve hours a day, while Becca did six on the kiln plus a 'second shift' in the kitchen feeding hungry stokers!

By the fourth day, we were ready to begin side stoking - where the wood goes in between the pots in the back of the first chamber and the soda/second chamber. This brings up the temperature more evenly overall and provides a little more ash on the pottery farther from the main firebox.

As we near the end (gauged for us by the melt of cones and the pyrometer reading), we begin to pull small rings of clay from the view ports. Once cooled in water, they give us an idea of whether the surface of the clay is smooth and glassy. If the rings are rough, we need to keep raising the temperature. Fortunately, they were lovely and we finished stoking just before the 96 hour mark.

Matt and Nathan 'mudded' the air ports in the front. This prevents cold air from leaking into the kiln while it cools slowly over a week's time. Yes, we wait a whole week - it's hard, but we don't want to crack the pieces by opening it when it's too hot! When you're waiting on about 1000 pieces, it's worth the wait. :)

We hadn't been finished for long - maybe an hour or so - when we were treated to another rainbow, this time with an end in each of our fields. A magical way to culminate months of work . . .

We'll be back next week with photos of the new pottery! You can see our pieces at one of our upcoming shows. We'll also have new things in our shop a little later in the summer.

We're pretty excited about what's happening in our new studio these days. Not only is it simply a gorgeous place to be, but it's been quite a while since we had some regular creative time with clay, and we had both forgotten how HAPPY it makes us . . .

Our new studio got its first delivery of clay a couple of weeks back from Vermont Ceramic Supply. We use primarily cone 10 bMix from Laguna, but we custom order a ton (yes, 2000 lbs) to have a lower pentrometer reading. That just means the clay has a higher water content which makes it softer . . . it's easier on our hands when we're throwing a lot.

Lego is loving the new building, too . . . he spends his days 'guarding' both us and the chickens . . . half in, half out.

Becca's been working on filling some orders, including a wedding registry and a dinnerware order, so there are lots of plates and bowls in the works.

Also making an appearance are collaborative batter bowls, tumblers, quite a few pieces with Becca's signature pebble designs, and some new twists on past designs, too . . .

And a happy potter with some very large fermenting crocks by special request . . . can't wait to see how these all turn out!

Our firing is scheduled for early July, so we're still going strong in order to fill all 350+ cubic feet. It's nothing if not satisfying work . . .

We are at work in our new studio: making pottery, being potters. Our wood kiln is just a short walk across the yard.

It sounds so simple. And it is, beautifully simple- at last.

Yet it's taken us four years to get to this point. Four years of hard physical labor, four years of juggling and planning and moving and sweating and spending and keeping 'the dream' alive through it all.

You could say it's been a lifetime in the making . . . Nathan bought our homestead nearly fifteen years ago, with the idea of setting up a studio in the old dairy barn. For better or worse, that barn collapsed.

Nathan finally has a studio of his own. He has worked for half a dozen potteries, and still teaches at a variety of educational institutions. It's been a long time coming to have a place where he could create his own layout, set out all of his tools and not have to pick them up and carry them away at the end of the day. With all of the dust-creating potential of working with clay, he has placed a floor drain in the center of the space and another in the glaze lab (funny things to be excited about, but hey . . .) and his own damp room for storing the pottery he's working on. No more constant monitoring of works in progress with a myriad of sheets of dry-cleaning plastic. These things make him very, very happy.

While I have known the joy of a studio of my own, I have never built one from scratch. Never have I started with a clean slate, with intention, or designed a space that works well for me and what I do as my full-time job.

It's clean and new and bright and I get to share it with the ones I love - man and canine. Our days are flooded in natural light and surrounded by earthly beauty.

The building is still far from finished; we will complete it as we're able. For now, we're happy bringing buckets of water from the house, and going without light fixtures. (The long daylight hours and ambient light from windows above mean we don't even need them.) We built a few adjustable pottery storage racks to get us started, but are still looking forward to figuring out more of the layout as we get a feel for the space.

We're still researching options for heating the radiant floor beneath us come chilly fall weather. The upstairs is still sub-floor and eventually we'll build some walls to separate future gallery, office, and storage. (For now, though, it's a great bunk room for visiting friends and kiln stokers.)

Despite the many things still to do - and there will always be more to do- we are happy as clams in our hard-won new work space.

We're working diligently towards a firing in early July, all the while tackling slab wood cutting and stacking, as well as a few kiln details and readying kiln shelves.

This was supposed to be a post about how we'd finished the siding on our new studio. Instead, it's a post about something altogether different, something we swore on multiple occasions that we would never do: we made a studio in our house.

{very chilly building & very frozen eyelashes}

A prolonged and bitter cold snap in our region prompted some rethinking of our path. Our main goal of the winter has been - and still is - to get the new shell of a studio ready for pottery making. Winter, however, has had other ideas. With the out-of-doors practically inhospitable (we're talking days that don't reach above single digits with sub-zero wind chills and 50 mph gusts), we found ourselves INSIDE.

There is still plenty of what we call "G.C." (general contractor) work to do on our part, and we've certainly been at it - educating ourselves on our insulation options, getting bids on said insulation, discussing our plans for radiant floor heat with a plumber, researching said systems, procuring floor drains, and the rest of the pieces of our as-yet-to-be-poured concrete floor on the lower level - we've been staying focused on studio planning, if not physically building.

But with the days and weeks ticking by (how is it almost February?!), we were feeling a bit antsy about the time and number of pieces it takes to fill our wood kiln. And thus the unthinkable happened: we moved our wheels out of storage and into an upstairs bedroom of our 160-year old farmhouse.

I'm sure there of those of you who are thinking, "Well, what were you waiting for? You had unused space that could have possibly been construed as a studio?!" A fair question. (You might also wonder why we have an unused room in our house - short answer: the upstairs has been awaiting a much needed renovation. And not just a lets-make-it-prettier reno; there are actual holes in the walls from a previous project, and asbestos-containing insulation in the eaves. Not to mention Nathan brushes the top of his head on the drop ceiling. So, yeah, we haven't been living up there much.)

It would seem obvious, on some level, though, that after years of trucking our pottery home from our rented space, we wouldn't just do this in the first place. Oh, but we had our reasons, and some of them are good. The chief reason NOT to put a studio in our not-so-large house is DUST. Clay dust is insidious, and can cause serious health problems when inhaled. If we're not neat about it, it gets on our shoes and clothes and up our forearms - and is then sprinkled imperceptibly but insidiously through our living space.

This time we promised ourselves we'll keep it neat. Very neat. As in, one pair of studio shoes that stays in the studio. No clay on our clothes. Plastic on the floor. Wipe up clay while it's still wet. So far so good.

Truth be known, it's pretty delightful to put a meal in the oven, a log in the wood stove, stream some podcast of some kind, and just mosey on up the stairs to work, with the puppy/dog to make trouble keep us company at the top of the stairs.

We're keeping things small (or so we tell ourselves) - there isn't much room to really produce plates or large bowls, (heck, there's not even room for us both to turn around carrying a board of pots) so we'll stick to small numbers of things that take time and attention.

For now, it's keeping us busy while the arctic wind blows, satisfying our need to make, and getting us just a little bit closer to our next wood firing. We will, however, be back on that building just as soon as it warms a bit!

I continue to chuckle at how Making A Plan (I believe my exact words were "the next pottery we make will be in our new studio") is the very best way to get Something Else to happen. :)

I've often heard it said that creative people need to be making. I find this to be very true. Over the years, I have known myself to be healthier and more balanced when I'm making something. Anything, really.
Because as it turns out, it doesn't so much matter what the medium is. Sure, clay is often a first choice for both of us, one that holds our attention and satisfies a certain addiction to need for productivity.

But I've also found a lot of creative enjoyment while cooking, doing carpentry, making cards, designing logos, growing vegetables, even splitting and stacking firewood. We have a potter friend who has found satisfaction in everything from wooden spoons to his current pursuit, handmade skis.

This winter, as we find ourselves 'between' pottery studios - and working diligently at finishing our very own - I've found a lot of joy in this bowl of yarn. It's been years since I knit with any regularity, but it's proving to be just the thing to satisfy a certain craving to make.

And in this season of fewer salad greens and more root veggies, it seems an appropriate re-purposing for our favorite wood-fired salad bowl. ;)

I remember hearing of a friend's resolution on the first day of 2012 to "stop talking about doing things, and actually do things." That struck a chord with me. Not that I'm one to sit around for extended periods, but there were some major things I really wanted to do this year. I really didn't want to just talk about doing them.
Very high up on that list was finishing our kiln. It had been two solid years of building - much longer than anticipated, on my part anyway - and we were scraping by, using friends' kilns (some of them in other states, yeesh) to fill orders and get ready for shows and commitments to galleries. Not to mention we'd be telling people we'd be done with the kiln for what seemed like waaayy too long. It was time. to. be. done.

These successes alone were almost momentous enough to make for a complete year. But we kept doing. We added ten more feet to the kiln shed, keeping the weather off the kiln and us a little more cozy. We closed it in, and added a wall for storing pottery (yeah, we haven't mentioned that yet here- but we did it!). We moved wood in, keeping it dry and ready for our next firing.

I built a chicken coop! We'd wanted to have our own laying hens for some time, and the urge to build a home for them was so strong it kept me awake at night. (True story, albeit weird.) Design ideas and calculations filled my head until I pulled out some old barn boards and my hammer. And we got those chickens, as chicks, actually - and we're so happy to finally be getting fresh eggs from our happy flock.

While building said coop, I decided to put the siding on a diagonal, so it would be stronger when we skidded it around the field with our tractor. That led to a Google search for tips and tricks on how to do this. That very search pulled up something much more consequential than chicken coop photos, as it turned out: in one fell swoop, I found the blog that found us a studio builder.

In a single, gutsy moment of intense craving for a studio-of-our-own, I emailed Mr. Abetti to see if we could even consider one of his beautiful barns. (Maybe we could be his crew for the project?!) This was in June. He wrote back almost immediately and we began a correspondence, including meetings on each of our summer birthdays, that resulted in an incredible building marathon that ended in a shell of studio, roofed and closed in (mostly) before this end-of-the-year snowfall.

Two days before Thanksgiving, we began working on the studio structure. On the winter solstice, we had the roof on, the windows in, and the wrap on.

We're amazed, giddy, delighted, and gearing up for what looks like a lot more doing in 2013. We just moved out of our rented studio in a nearby town, and put our pottery making tools and supplies into storage. Woah. Yup, we're making a big leap : we're very hopeful banking on the fact that the next pottery we make will be in our new studio. (Say hello to buckets of water, unfinished walls, and extension cords!)

On this New Year's Day, however, we are enjoying reflecting and giving thanks for all of YOU who helped us get to this point. (OK, let's be honest, we are also working . . . by starting to put siding on our studio building! We might not be able to match 2012 in productivity and excitement, but we'll sure try. ;)

Yesterday, we had what could only be called a very last minute open house. We sent emails, and posted on Facebook, and we thought we might get a couple of visitors to see the new studio building.

In a few short hours, however, we were overwhelmed and delighted by the incredible turn out. People came from all over our little town. They came from neighboring towns- and states. People who had never been here invited friends, and we met many new, wonderful people. Everyone enjoyed hot cocoa in Nathan's cute little mugs, laughed at the chickens, and marveled at how in two short months, we've gone from a muddy, ledge-ridden hole to a towering gorgeous building. While that was happening, other folks continued to order pottery from our website.

Wow. Seriously, wow.

2012 has been a momentous year for us. (Heck, make that a momentous four years.) We can't even begin to log the hours of work we've put into building and finishing our wood kiln, firing it for the first two times, and launching into another huge building project without much (any?) time off. And while the last four years have been exciting, we'll be honest: it hasn't been easy. Life has been unsettled, and trying at times. We've 'been through the fire', so to speak, both as individuals, and as a couple. We've felt vulnerable, and we've even been scared. We've learned SO much. About masonry- and about working together. About carpentry- and about marriage. About concrete- and about perseverance.

And the hard work is not over, not at all.

But out of all of this, we see a light at the end of a long tunnel - we are watching our dream unfold, and it turns out it's bigger and more amazing than we could have imagined. We get to be potters again soon! We get to do the thing we love - the thing that prompted and motivated all of this building in the first place. Call me crazy, but making pottery - and making a living at it - is the thing that gets me out of bed in the dark and cold, to pull on the long underwear and wool hat, and get back to work outside. In December. In Vermont.

But the most amazing part of all this - and the reason I'm reflecting on this deeply personal stuff here, is because of YOU. I'm writing this now because it means so SO much to us to have the kind of support and enthusiasm we felt yesterday, and that we've felt throughout the year at our shows. It brings tears to my eyes - tears of gratitude and thanks - that you would tell us, and show us with your presence, that you, too, think we're doing something great, something worth getting up in the cold and dark for.

Thank you for buying pottery, truly.

Thank you for gifting it, and for telling your friends and family about us. Thank you for sending us photos of your dinner on one of our plates, or your coffee mug on your desk, or your cat in one of our bowls. (Yes, this has happened more that once!)

Thank you for telling us that you enjoy using our pottery, and for believing that something handmade by another human is important, or at least enjoyable.